Summer '09 - H.S

5

𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕪𝕝𝕖𝕤
꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱
･:*:･｡☆･:*:･｡☆

I despise it when people want an unannounced meeting, and it makes my blood boil how they come up to me and demand to speak with me. I hate it when others try to control me; it makes me want to slam their heads against a stone wall and watch their blood pour forth.

And when we "finished talking," I did precisely that.

I continuously bashed his head against the brick wall of my club. He wasn't dead, so I just left him there to bleed out. Someone would almost certainly find him and take him to the hospital, but the chances that he will remember what transpired are slim. And if he somehow remembers, I'm in big trouble, not only with my father's but also with his father. But, right now, I couldn't care less.

no one would ever kill me, They are too terrified of my father to even lay a hand on me, no matter how big and powerful their mafia are. They wouldn't attempt to assassinate one of the most potent mafias globally that's been in operation for over a century.

Plus, he wasn't here for anything important; he just wanted to tell me that the next shipment was for both of us and that he didn't want me to "pull any shit" when the Russians arrived. When they come down here, I could kill them all if I wanted to. Nobody tells me what I should do. I couldn't care less about how dangerous the Russians are, how they don't care who my father is and would kill me if they could.

I want to see them try.

I walked back into the club, the crowd clearing the way for me as I made my way up the black marble stairs and into the bathroom; the music was loud, drowning out my own thoughts, and there was a strong smell of marijuana and liquor in the air. As I entered the bathroom, the music became a little calmer, and I could only hear the beat.

There were a few people inside, almost fleeing as if I was going to kill them for even looking at me. or maybe I would have, given how irritated I am. I began to wash away the blood that had run down my knuckles. looking up at the mirror, wiping away the blood from my face.

I couldn't have any blood on me.

After I finished, I began walking towards the balcony. The breeze blew into my face as I opened the sliding doors, cooling my hot body. my eyes glanced down at Luna watching as she laughed loudly covering her face. she sat on the small couch, her legs were propped up on the table. Luna glances up at the sound of the door her face breaking out to a grin.

Is she drunk?

She scoots over and pats a tiny space next to her. "Sit," she demands, giggling. Her hair was a mess, and I could smell the strong liquor from where I stood.

"What the hell is she drinking, Zayn?" He raises his intense red eyes to me and nods to the nearly empty bottle of Bacardi.

Zayn laughs and licks his lips as he says, "She's a funny girl, Harry. and has some valuable talents."

"talents?" I cast a glance down at Luna, who was still smiling and talking with her friend.

I grabbed Luna's wrist and dragged her up. She stumbles over her own feet, falling on top of me. I push her off, walking away, having a grip on her wrist."Ay, slow down, Harry," Luna quips, "I'm about to trip! I can't walk, dammit." I looked back, shaking my head, as I hauled her into my office.

She tripped once more. Collapsing on my oversized couch and gazed up at the ceilings. "What happened, luna? Why did Zayn say you're talented?"

She leans on her elbows, a devilish smirk on her face as she stares at me. " We had a bit of fun. more like a threesome with umm Jeni,"